Sheep's head with lots of Tongue, por favor

Last night on my way to class I stopped at a Taqueria. Taco options included Barbacoa, al Pastor, and Lengua … among other offerings. I ordered the Barbacoa and carnitas … plus Horchata, since they didn’t have any unsweet tea. (Actually they didn’t have ANY kind of ice tea).

As I went to the Aguas Frescas bar to get my drink, the young guy asked me if I had a husband. “uhhh, no.” Then he wanted to know if I had babies. “I work with big babies, but I don’t HAVE any,” I told him. (The humor clearly went over his head).

“Boyfriend?” he asked

“Nada” I wanted to say I liked amigas … but didn’t know if that was really the correct term – and figured that whole sarcasm thing might get lost on him, so I just left it at “nada”.

"Why not?"

"I'm too mean?" which brought a puzzled look to his face.

Next he wanted to know what kind of job I had … of course “software for Agriculture is SO EASY to translate!” So I shortened it to “computadoras”. THEN he wanted to know if I LIVED in “the Gotham City”.

“No” < - - needs no translation, it is the same word in English AND Spanish.

“Why are you here?” I knew he didn’t mean in the restaurant, as that was pretty obvious. “Duke, educación de la autor” I told him … TOTALLY mangling his language and I’m sure making him doubt my ability to string sentences together in a pleasing way.

Then I asked him about himself. “Esposa?” “Bambino?” … clearly I didn’t have to ask WHERE HE WORKED. Both answers were “nada”. We smiled at each other … camaradas en unidad.

About that time my tacos were ready … as I picked them up, he asked for my telephone number. “Tambien malo,” I said and then I cheerfully called “Adios, señores” to he and the rest of the gang.

The tacos, two salsas, and marinated vegetables were wonderful … and for some stupid reason, a 22 year old Latin male trying to ask me out put a smile on my face.

Creepy Meditating Exercise Man

Today at the gym, as I started the weight circuit I noticed there was a man – about seven machines ahead of me at the Tricep Bondage Machine. He was facing the machine standing stock still.

Since it was ungodly early, and I was feeling cranky, I paid no attention to him. I did the exercise that turns my legs into rubber bands – and moved onto the next machine. As I strengthened my knees and tried to remember if I did repetitions of 8, 10, or 12 I heard a loud crash and exhaling of air. I thought it was kind of stupid for the guy to put so much weight on the tricep machine, but, whatever floats your boat, right?

Then I moved onto yet another torture device. I think this one works to make my ankles look slimmer. When I use it, instead of facing the windows, I face the group of machines behind me. In other words, I was staring at Tricep man. And Tricep man was just standing there – staring at his machine. His look was SO intense he almost had a meditative air about himself.

Finishing my reps on the ankle sliming machine, I moved onto yet ANOTHER MACINE. I figure that’s why it’s called a circuit. It means you move FROM one thing TO another. I used another four machines, and noticed that Tricep Man WAS STILL AT THE TRICEP MACHINE. He had a system down. Stare at the machine. Mount the machine. Breathe deeply. Use the machine once while grunting. Step away from the machine and stare at it again.

Finally, there was just one exercise left to do before the Tricep machine. I’d decided I’d just skip it instead of disturbing him. Once again, he was just standing there, staring at it. I don’t know. Maybe he was hoping to communicate with it. Figure out it’s mystery. Or convince himself he could do more than one repetition at a time. Maybe it had spoken back to him and he was looking at it in disbelief. I just knew I didn’t want to come between the two.

As I finished my rep (I looked at my sheet – they’re supposed to be of 12) on the arm curl, he grabbed his towel and walked away in disgust.

I switched the weight on the machine and used it. It performed admirably. 12 times. Up. Down. Then it allowed me to pause. Then I did another 12. Up, down. And I left the machine. He returned and once again just stared at it.

As I finished up my three sets of 30 gut crunchers he used the machine again. Deep breath, grunt, lift, clatter, exhale, dismount and stare.

I wanted to offer him some pointers on getting more than one rep in, but decided it was best to not step into the lover’s quarrel, so I came home. I hope he’s not still there – trying to become one with the machine tomorrow morning.

Two, To, Too, One

Two Bugs

Last night as I said good night to my friend, I walked into the kitchen to turn off the overhead light. I noticed that in my haste to get to work yesterday, I’d left my counter stool kind of in the middle of the kitchen … or at least not under the counter. Glancing at it – it registered there was a LARGE black spot on it.

“Hmmm – I wonder what dropped on it?” My brain processes the shape – the possibilities – and my mouth screamed “Yieeeeks! It’s a bug! A F’ing B-I-G A-S-S bug.”

So I quickly retrieved a shoe from the living room and bashed the hell out of the bug. This left a huge pile of bug mush and juice on my stool. *sigh*

As I walked to the paper towel holder (located under the kitchen sink) I noticed a movement down near my BARE FEET.

“Gahhhhh!!!!ahhhhhgggg!!!”

Another damn bug. This one was more of a challenge to mash into pulp, but I succeeded. After wiping up the remains of the gooosh, and depositing the dead bodies in the garbage (usually I suck them up in the dustbuster, but they were too “wet” to suck up), I toddled off to bed – and refused to consider the possibility there are HUNDREDS lurking in my bedroom just waiting to pounce.

Two Running Men

Every morning as I drive to the YMCA, I meet the “TWO OLD RUNNING MEN.” They have wiry bodies, gray-haired concaved chests, and wrap reflective tape around their forearms.

It seems to not matter what the weather is, they jog sans shirts.

Every time I pass them, the outside runner lifts his outside forearm (like in the Wonder Woman pose).

I treat it as a silent greeting of camaraderie.

“Hello fellow early morning, still dark out, exerciser. Glad to see you’re heading to the Y.”

I wave back acknowledging that again today I have made it this far towards my daily work out.

In reality, I’m sure they’re just trying to “ward-off” the evil black TrailBlazer heading towards them at 5:00 am, but my little fantasy makes me happy.

(Wouldn’t it be funny if they make up a story about the delusional red-head who cheerfully waves at them each morning?)

Two Boobs

Yes, shocking I know. I have TWO BOOBS. This week they are rather tender. There is one machine at the gym where you lean your chest (boobs) against the triangle shaped pad, and then pull the weights towards you.

Most mornings I kind of marvel at how the pad fits between my non-existent cleavage, and how the boobs, they do not get in the way. And wonder about other, larger endowed women, and how this machine works (or doesn’t) for them.

Today, I could only notice how painful it was to squish that padded piece between the boobs. After the first repetition of 12, I reached up to rub where it hurt.

THEN I FELT ABOUT A MILLION MAN-EYES ON ME and stopped.

I did the second repetition, but grimaced with each pull.

I AM SO SKIPPING THAT EXERCISE for the rest of this week.

One workout completed

Today is the first time since I’ve gone back to working out that I finished the 30 minute elliptical without begging/cussing/pleading with me/Didi/God to complete it. I also finished the full weight circuit – even if I didn’t always complete the second rep of twelve on everything.

I cannot tell you how disgusted and discouraged I am to see how my lack of attendance has ruined my progress. I have another week in town – and then a week out of town. Packing my tennis shoes to workout is a huge problem (space) – so I’m not always good about working out on the road. Then I’m home for a week – then gone for the last three weeks of August. I’M NEVER GOING TO REGAIN or progress. < /self-pity >

Smash Mouth, 2 x 12, Salad, Travel

Today at the gym there were three good things.

One of the songs playing was Smash Mouth's, "Walkin' on the Sun" ... I particularly like these lyrics (and they fit with things going on right now)

"Hey I know it's just a song but it's spice for the recipe

This is a love attack I know it went out but it's back"

- and-

"Allow if you're still alive six to eight years to arrive

And if you follow there may be a tomorrow

But if the offers shun you might as well be walkin' on the sun"

~0~

Two people I've actually decided I LIKE talking to at 5:30 in the morning showed up at the gym. I hadn't seen them since the electrical fiasco, and it was nice to say "hi" and explain my 5 day absence (because I didn't want them to think I was a slacker).

But the BEST part was overcoming one of the circuit machines. Since day one, I've been struggling with the Chest Press adn the Overhead Press. About two or three weeks ago I finally concurred Chest Press, but this Overhead Press has alluded me. In the beginning I could only do half of one repetition (so 6 presses out of 12 in a rep) at the 30 pounds, and then I did the rest at "no weight". (Which I am sure is really like 5 lbs or something.)

I gradually worked up to a full rep at the 30 pounds - but couldn't get to the second rep past about 8 presses, until I had to switch to no-weight to finish out the second full repetition. UNTIL TODAY. The last two extensions weren't particularly pretty - but they GOT DONE!

~0~

Last night my dinner group met. The dinner theme was "Mexican" and the main course included Chicken Enchiladas and Chicken tacos. I was responsible for the salad. I wanted something "Latin" ... but couldn't really think of anything that didn't include avocados - which are insanely expensive. As I was poking around, I thought of Jicama. Then I thought of a salad with Oranges and Jicama. I couldn't find a recipe I liked - so I made up my own. They all liked it - as did I! Dilly requested I hand it out ... so, here you go!

Chipotle Orange and Jicama Salad

4 navel oranges, peel and pith cut away with a serrated knife and sections cut free from membranes (about 2 cups total), reserving the juice.

12 ounces jícama, peeled and cut into 2- by 1/2- by 1/4-inch sticks

1/2 small red onion, sliced thin lengthwise

1 English Cucumber - peeled and cut into 2- by 1/2- by

1/4-inch sticks

1/4 cup minced fresh coriander sprigs (cilantro)

Dressing

1 tablespoon chipotle chili in adobo sauce, finely minced

1 tablespoon white-wine vinegar

2 teaspoons Dijon mustard

2 tablespoons olive oil

Before Serving

3/4 teaspoon salt, or to taste 1/4 c. pumpkin seeds, toasted until golden

Preperation

In a large bowl gently stir together all ingredients through coriander sprigs (cilantro). In small bowl or jar whisk/shake together – chili, vinegar, mustard, olive oil (may add reserve juice or 1 Tbls lime juice if desired), pour over salad and toss.

Salad may be made up to this point 1 day ahead and covered, chilled.

Sprinkle each serving with pumpkin seeds.

~0~

Finally, I leave tomorrow afternoon for a business trip to Memphis, Tennessee. Professionally I am ready (because it's a trade show, so I don't have to worry about any presentations or anything.) Personally, not so ready. I don't have my homework done for class tomorrow night (I need to e-mail out 4 critiques), my house is not picked up or clean, my clean laundry isn't folded and put away, etc. Plus I still have 3 errands to run. (Drop off an ice-chest, return some hardware for a refund, drop off a baking dish).

I seriously wanted to skip work today to get this stuff done - but we have two employees out sick. (and I wish I'd quit running into sick people. I don't WANT to be sick in Memphis (but could manage) ... but REALLY do not want to get sick/be recovering from the flu or a nasty cold when I leave for the UK.

So - tonight I expect two things will happen. I will be lethargic after work - AND I will stay up way too late trying to get it all done, which means I won't get a lot of sleep - and I'll want to ditch working out Tuesday morning. :(

Enough with the complaining - here are some good things about going to Memphis. (and I won't say the bad things)

1. I'll get to see I h8 24 and her husband - plus eat dinner with them at the Butcher Shop!
2. I'll get to eat dinner at the Rendevous
3. I'll finally get to meet a friend of my parents who lives there. He is a wild-life biologist and has been supplying me (via Dad) with info on native plant and animal species to California back in the 1800's. And they're cooking dinner for me!! :)
4. I'll get to see other customers, even if Saturday IS the worst day to work the trade booth. (okay, I slipped in one minor complaint)

So - next time I write, it will be from Memphis (I am assuming I'll have time in the evening to write SOMETHING)

Conquering Hero

Steely Dan & My Old School is a great song to listen to at 5:15 am. Not sure why, but it works. So does Pink Floyd, Eddie Money – or any other song blasting over the speakers.

Yesterday and today I managed a full 20 minutes on the torture device that disguises itself as an ellipical "walker". In reality it is a bucking bronco, trying to dislodge me from its flanks. Or maybe it's an earthquake machine, a physical representation of Plate Tectonics in action. I look like a sailor recovering from my off-shore leave as I lurch across the deck that carries me nowhere. Certainly it’s cousin is the fun-house floor.

Besides the challenge of staying upright, the machine takes perverse pleasure in sucking all the air from my lungs. I sound like a freight-train chuffing along about 2 seconds into the 20 minutes. I am amazed that anyone can read while navigating these shifting sands. It takes all my non-athletic skill to stay upright as I reach for my towel to end the thunderstorm of sweat pouring off my face and neck.

Today I was able to do all two sets of 12 reps with the full amount of weight on ALL the machines. Except that blasted "Overhead Press". It really should be named the, "I laugh-in-your-face, you will never raise your hands above your head with 30 pounds, you stupid red-headed girl" machine. But the evilness known as the "Pull your hands/elbows together as if you think praying will do any good machine" or as it’s labeled, the “Chest Press” has been conquered. For today. At a measly 30 lbs. I'm going to wait and see how we get along for 5 days before considering increasing the weight so I can feel like a loser all over again.

Today, as I filled out my progress card, I realized I’ve been doing this for a month now. The first week I started contained Christmas Eve/Christmas Day. The second week had New Years Eve and New Years day – when the Y was closed. Besides those times, I have been faithful. 5 days a week I am up and there. I’ve made the routine work for me, and I’ve been harsh with myself. There is no good reason except certified illness to miss one of the five days. If I miss a weekday, I must make it up on Saturday or Sunday.

I’ve stopped putting roadblocks in my way. Showering there just seemed like a hassle. But since I go so early in the morning, there’s no reason for me to not come home and slip back into my “normal” morning routine. Shower, wet hair wrapped in a towel, bathing beauty style, while I eat my breakfast and read the newspaper. I have had to abandon my morning writing time, but have become diligent about writing at night when I don’t have other obligations.

But there is more than “me” in this effort. Once again, I am so blessed with amazing friends. I have my own e-trainer, the lovely SLuciferi, and a cheering team consisting of Didi-bo-Pimp-Daddy, Dilly, and C. Horsey. Their encouragement and suggestions are further reinforcement to stick to this.

For years, I kept saying to myself, “I’d work out, if there was someone to work out with me.” I find it ironic that now I want no one near me while I’m working out. You stay in your space and I’ll stay in mine, is my motto and demeanor at the gym. So far, the glare of concentration, the closed eyes, or staring at the ground have worked well to keep everyone away. But I think most of the 5 am’ers are like me. Except 90% of them are serious athletes. “SERIOUS, SERIOUS, SCARY IN SHAPE, RUN FULL OUT ON THE TREADMILL FOR AN HOUR” insane type “in-shape”. A few of them have begun to give me the high sign with their chin when they see me heading from the bike or the elliptical over to the circuit. I like to be vain and think it’s because they are impressed with my commitment and steadfastness.

When I first began, SLuciferi, encouraged me to take measurements and track my weight. I’ve done neither of those things. Her thinking is that I will be inspired to see the change. But I’ve been down this road before. For me, discouragement comes from NOT seeing the scale change, for not getting a quick enough “reward” for steadfastness and dedication. So I’ve decided to let different numbers encourage me. The numbers I am tracking, I spoke of at the top of this post.

Except for my upper body – I’ve improved my weight and ability to complete reps on all the circuit machines. I’ve increased my endurance – slightly. I have set goals of being able to cycle/elip for a half hour with a heart rate of 93-153 bpm. Right now I’m at 142 for 20 minutes, and I started at 90 for 10 minutes.

Currently I can leg press at 110 pounds. I am happy with that number. Most of the other leg stuff hovers around 50 pounds. I’d like to get that up to the 90-110 pound range there too. I refuse to become discouraged about my upper body strength. I’ve never had it. I can feel my form getting all “wonky” on the 2^nd set of reps. I am going to concentrate on improving form – and ease of completing the task rather than the amount of weight, for the time being. Another tip she gave me is to not “zone out” while on the machines. To make the first set quick and swift. Then really think about what I’m doing on the second set, to think about what muscles I am using and what they are telling me. This suggestion fills me with endless amusement.

When I get to those second reps you can bet I am thinking, “What the ‘f’ am I doing here?” And my muscles are quite clever in the way they signal to me which ones I am using. I have no idea how I could ignore the “Hey! You! What the hell brought this on?” message they are sending me, accompanied by little jolts of voltage. But I whisper, “Shssssh! Look how sleek and strong you are becoming!” “Look how great you are performing!” “You are becoming stellar performers, and soon EVERYONE will be able to see your beauty.” It hasn’t shut them up, but it has seemed to pacify them somewhat. Or at least they haven’t gone on strike!

I know there’s one more component I haven’t mentioned. It’s one I don’t want to face. It’s one that calls for more discipline than I am willing to employ. Every morning as I spend my time at the Y, I hear EliteR’s words about “negative net calories” being the key. Over all, I do a eat healthy, well-balanced diet. But I am NOT “expend[ing] more calories during physical activity than … [I] take in through eating”. I’ve been pondering this too every morning as I try to stay on the Plate Tectonics Replica. Why expend all of this energy – literally to only go half-way? My current forty minutes of exercise is only expending around 300 calories. Not even one bowl of cold cereal and glass of milk for breakfast. I’m unwilling to go too far into this … I am not willing to radically change the way I cook and eat and enjoy food. I am however willing to think about portion control. To be more observant about quantity. We’ll see where I am in April. After the week in Memphis and the 10 days in England. Maybe the answer is to add another exercise two or three nights a week. I don’t know how reasonable that is with my current schedule. I know I’ll have to find a way to keep exercising while traveling for work. When I stay in larger towns, the hotels usually have some form of workout room. Usually a bike. Maybe an earthquake machine. In the smaller towns, I guess it’s walking the parking lot.

In the meantime, I want to thank “Team Mit”. Thank you for the ideas, the support, and encouragement.

Lie

There is no "high" from working out.

It's just another thing to get done.

Like brushing my teeth.

ps: No endorphins happen' here.

pps: NOTHING to do with exercise is fun. Absolutely nothing. I am awkward, uncoordinated, klutzy, and any other "non-athletic" term you can think of. Which is fine. I recognize that - and know I must just be determined and focused. Which I am. But every minute is of exercise is a chore. Always has been, always will be. And I hate those people who talk about "how great" exercising is ... grrr.

ppps: I really don't mean to sound like a whiny baby about all of this.

pppps: But for the record ... I AM GOING TO STICK WITH THIS DAMMIT!

The Key, Hold on to the Key!

Yesterday at 5:15 am I stumbled out of my house and to the gym. Before leaving the house, I had to pack my gym bag.

Clothes for work? Check!

Dopp Travel Bag with shampoo/conditioner etc.? Check!

Makeup bag? (blessedly tiny as I only use foundation, powder and lipstick) Check!

Combination lock from high school? Check!

Arriving at the Y, they checked me in (since I don’t have my membership card to swipe yet) and I headed downstairs to the locker rooms. I smiled at the attendant and she handed me a key to a locker, and a towel.

In my sleep addled brain I finally figured out the key she gave me had a number on it – and that number corresponded to a specific locker. (duh) I threw my stuff in the locker and headed for the exercise bike. I punched a million buttons, programmed it for 15 minutes – and started reading the newspaper.

Completing that exercise, without falling off the bike during mounting/dismounting, tangling my feel in the straps, or any other clumsy embarrassing moves (of which I am entirely capable of) I moved onto the ‘circuit’.

Let me tell you – there are more knobs to pull and levers to adjust than I imagined. However, I was doing well. I upped the weight on a few machines, because there was no challenge with the original weight and decreased the weight on two pieces, as there’s no way I can get through two reps of twelve on them.

Nearing the end of the circuit with just 3 more machines to work through, I noticed a woman heading my way. She looked confident and vaguely “official”. Not sure why. Maybe it was the ID card at her waist or the keys stuck in her waist band. As she walked toward me, I experienced a moment of discomfort. I was struggling with a machine that works the upper body, and feeling pretty awkward and incompetent.

“Great! She’s going to walk over here and tell me my posture is wrong, I’m not trying hard enough, or something else, and I am going to die of embarrassment. Maybe I’ll just turn into one big sweat drop and she won’t see me.”

But she stopped short of me and began a conversation with another club member. That’s when I realized she was just another member and not the “workout cop”. For some reason though, my eyes remained fixated on the key at her waist.

“Hmmm. It has a brass tag on it just like the key the …. Oh crap! Just like the key the attendant gave me.”

Now I was in a panic. I still had 4 more reps to go before finishing the second twelve so I told myself to just relax until I completed the set. “You cannot stop to search for a key!”

Finishing the twelve moves, I surreptitiously touched my hand to the pocket of my workout pants. No key.

“Maybe it’s in the stuck towel – on top of your newspaper – and with the progress card," I thought moving on to the next machine. Completing the next set of exercises – I told myself to just relax. It would be there. Only? When I walked over there to record the weight and number of reps? It wasn’t. One more machine to go and I'd be done. It was 6:30. The club was getting crowded.

“Great! Now I’ll have to announce my stupidity to EVERYONE,” I was thinking. “Well, no sense it worrying about it now. Finish up, and then you can figure out what you’re going to do.”

The last machine is an ab cruncher. I hardly noticed my abs. Instead I was crunching scenarios through my brain. “I bet I locked in IN the locker. Surely other people have done this. They’ll have a way to get into the locker.” Quick to follow on this thought was, “Thank goodness no carpool today! I’ll never be back at the house by eight.”

Finishing up the last set of the crunches I gathered up my towel, newspaper. I filed the progress card under “D” for "Dummy" in the filing cabinet, and then slowly walked down the stairs to the locker room. I decided there was no need to declare my new name to the attendant, until I knew the full extent of my predicament.

“Did you have a great workout?” she called as I pushed into the locker room and headed toward my locker.

“Great,” I muttered with sarcasm, knowing that in mere seconds I would be back before her sharing my sleep-walking stupidity.

Entering the locker room I noticed there were two other women in there. One changing to go workout – and the other another attendant doing some cleaning. Both within clear sight of my locker. Head down, unwilling to face my fate, I plodded toward the locker. Glancing up, as I neared it I noticed …

… MY KEY was still hanging in the door of the locker! (Because yes, that IS the safest way to protect your valuables!)

Still feeling stupid, “Hi! I’m the new member! I’m not smart enough to take my key WITH ME while I work out!” I opened the locker. Grabbed my stuff for a shower and headed toward them … WITH THE KEY.

Showering was a fairly smooth operation – although I realized I don’t really need my whole normal Dopp bag with me here at the gym. I only need shampoo, conditioner, and face soap. The rest of the stuff I wag along when I travel is just extra crap I have to paw through. So now I can have TWO traveling bags! Oh joy. (not)

I showered, returned to the locker, got my makeup and hairbrush out and went to the hair-drying/makeup apply area to finish getting ready. AND LEFT THE DAMN KEY IN THE LOCKER AGAIN!

Now I don’t know about you, but I usually dry my hair without clothes on. Because you know – the hot air from the hair dryer is “hot” which seems counterproductive to staying “sweat free” after a shower. Especially if you’re wearing a turtle neck and heavy sweater while drying the hair. I also cannot secure my towel efficiently around me so I can dry my hair with just a wrapped towel. So it’s either be dress or be naked. Trust me, no one wants to see me naked.

Returning to the locker, I struggled to return everything to my gym bag while not sticking my butt in a co-locker users face as she was trying to get dressed. Finally getting it all together I grabbed my bag, the makeup bag that wouldn’t fit in the gym bag (because someone has huge ass shoes that take up too much room), my newspaper and my purse (with the combo-lock still locked around my purse handle).

“Oh, you should grab your car keys out of your purse now so you can open the car without having to dig in the dark for them,” I thought as I started to head out. After pawing through my purse – and panicking – because “OH MY GOD, NOW I’VE LOST MY CAR KEYS!!??” I realized I had given the attendant my car keys in order to get the “USELESS NOT SECURING MY STUFF WHILE WORKING OUT”, locker key. *sigh*

As I drove home I contemplated what I could do to change the fact it took me 45 minutes to get showered and dressed –while feeling “scattered” the whole time.

“I don’t remember being this disorganized back in Az,” kept running through my mind. “Was the locker room set up differently?” Mentally I shrugged. “Who can remember the setup of a locker room eight years ago?” Then it hit me. Really, I don’t NEED to shower at the gym. Because unlike Arizona, I am NOT working out on my way to work! After my workout I will return home each morning to eat breakfast, write for an hour, and meet my carpool!

Halleluiah! That’s the key! I can continue to shower at home!

(or remember combination locks don't require keys)